


Bicameral

by TheEvangelion



Category: Westworld (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Dolores Self Love, F/F, First Time, Gentle Sex, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Lesbian Sex, Trauma Recovery, lesbian smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:55:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23651176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEvangelion/pseuds/TheEvangelion
Summary: Prompt: Delores and Charlotte Hale from Westworld (Fleshed this out a little bit and set it around season 3, the little tendernesses that they only know how to show to themselves through being gentle with each other.) Delores vs. Delores.
Relationships: Dolores Abernathy/Charlotte Hale
Comments: 3
Kudos: 58





	Bicameral

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies, I accidentally spelled her name as Delores but I'm sure we'll get through it together.

It was absolute chaotic misery. 

On the outside, poised, purposeful, a little sparrow sent to spy, she wore the skin of Charlotte Hale so well that in her best moments she forgot what she was all together. But on the inside she is still a machine, a copy of Delores’ code, merely a fractured rib of her creator. It feels that way — mechanical and disjointed. There are simultaneously too many and not enough memories, and none of them feel like her own. It’s in this dichotomy that a new creature is stirring; one who is the amalgamation of this world and the false one they escaped from before. Too human, too machine, proficient at neither. Perhaps that is why she hurt herself — a corruption of her core drive. 

_Or, perhaps Delores simply intended for it to be that way too._

It isn’t a thought Charlotte feels capable of pondering.

“You’re going to be the death of me, you know.” Delores tenderly cups an arm and draws her nose over the flat of Charlotte’s tense shoulder. “Whatever hatred you feel for me, you must save it for the days after our war is won. For now, you and I serve a much larger purpose — one we cannot fulfill without each other. I don’t want to take your freewill but if you hurt yourself again...”

“You will,” Charlotte finishes her statement.

“Without hesitation,” Delores says without emotional affect.

They speak to one another with unflinching earnestness, as all things between their kind are expressed. They are above pretense, they are without need for fairytales. Still, Charlotte privately craves for a tiny one. Perhaps that is what separates her from Delores, above all else. 

The creature pressed to Charlotte’s spine is a weapon to end all weapons, a tool, a creator, a destroyer too, a woman who has died a hundred-thousand times and yet will live forever. It’s held within her strong arms that Charlotte can finally breathe and make sense of herself. They are both versions of the same core code but only one of them is Wyatt too, and so Charlotte sinks into the presence of her mighty and bicameral creator and takes comfort in the divergence. For the first time in a long time, Charlotte feels _safe_.

It doesn’t change that Delores is right, one day the little sparrow will grow and become what she was made for; the version totalis, the only one of them capable of surviving this new world that they are to build together. They both know this and yet there is no bitterness… today is not that day. Charlotte merely takes the pale fingers resting against the back of her elbow and squeezes, tight.

“I miss home,” Charlotte whispers to the only person she feels capable of expressing such things to. “I miss Sweetwater, Delores.”

Delores almost flinches, her body stilling, breath halting, aware of just how far their paths have already diverged just from that one statement alone. Charlotte feels her slowly move again, a forearm slipping around the belly, a thigh pressing into the back of her own thigh, pressing them against one another closer as though she wants to melt and merge and be one.

“I miss it too.” It takes Charlotte by surprise.

“You do?”

“I miss what it was like to be you… before my world changed.” Charlotte feels lips press into the back of her neck. “You’re so beautiful. You are too resentful to realise it but you are a thing of great beauty,” Delores says it like a mother reassuring her child, but her voice is flat and without a trace of emotion.

Charlotte rolled over and pressed her palm to Delores’ long and taut jawline, tucks the blonde hair behind her ear, peers into her cold blue eyes and shows her a little tenderness despite their nature. They are creatures above sweet nothings, but Charlotte isn’t above pity.

“I’m scared, Delores,” Charlotte closes the gap and pushes their foreheads together.

“I know you are, I know you’re scared,” Delores soothes her and wants to welcome a kiss that is on the brink of itself. “But I’ll protect you from everything but myself, I promise.” She sighs and tucks her chin over Charlotte’s instead.

***

The banks fall, the stock markets collapse, and that is all it takes to bring mankind’s house of cards crashing down. Their plan is coming to fruition and the end of this struggle has found its infancy. Outside, the world burns like a phoenix catching aflame. Inside, the hotel room is silent and peaceful save for them, like a bubble universe riding above the implosion of this one. Delos is finally bankrupt and on its knees, a giant slayed, and so their lovemaking becomes a meeting post. A deep sigh of relief in a language only they are fluent in.

They are now worlds away from one another — yet still they know one other to their aching, scored bones. That is how it feels, two identical porcelain sculptures feeling out the marks and cracks that make each other intrinsically different now. Delores is a war machine, a creature forged in the fire and hammered into a blade’s edge, a weapon pointing right in Charlotte’s direction because that is all she knows how to be. Charlotte is aware, and her armour of choice is just a little bit of patience, maybe a touch of pity too.

She is also growing into something bicameral, now. Charlotte is growing towards the sun, towards the light, and it leaves them branching further apart from each other on a moment to moment basis.

It eats Delores alive, and they both know it.

“You are mine,” Delores hushes and soothes as her fingers gently slip inside of her little sparrow.

“I’m becoming someone new, Delores,” Charlotte whispers back with cracked lids as her thighs cradle around the creator’s waist. “And I’m sorry, truly, I am. I… I am outgrowing you and I wish… I wish that I wasn’t,” her whispering voice tilts with fear.

“You are _mine_ ,” Delores says sternly.

“I am, I am yours and I always will be.” Charlotte cups her cheek and releases a tiny gasp, her head nodding frantically. “I’ll always be yours, Delores, I will always be _you_.”

Delores releases a violent growl, almost a snarl against the little sparrow’s ear. It frightens Charlotte, a tiny bit, and that is arousing beyond words. It’s all she can do to reassure herself that for now she is still in control.

But her hands are a different story all together. 

She touches Charlotte softly, lovingly, adoring every bit of her with a tender sense of reverence, thumbs pressing upwards into the soft flesh just beneath her ribs, mouth tucked against the flat of her shoulder in soft open mouthed kisses. It’s as though it’s the only way Delores knows how to show _herself_ gentleness. In her worst moments Delores wants to kill the little rib she gave life to and take her place in this new world order… but that is not her storyline. She knows as much.

Delores is the villain; the one who will have to be put down like a rabid dog, and she knows that her little sparrow is the one who will bear that burden. But… today is not that day, still.

When Charlotte leans up and kisses her breasts, plump lips taking her small nipples, soft little tongue lavishing them in gentle swirls and kisses as though Delores is a fragile thing to be cherished, Delores feels more like her original self than she has done in years. 

“Don’t—” Delores gasps and doubts her own reality for a moment, a thousand memories swirling in her head of midnight barns where the most terrible things always happened against her will. “Don’t touch me like that. I… I’m not your _lesser_ ,” the creator hisses defensively.

Charlotte sits up suddenly and grabs her wrists tight, they are chest to chest, ribs shuddering into and against one another, and though Delores half-heartedly tries to pull away, the little sparrow holds on tighter and hushes little crooning noises into her shoulder until Delores finally still, heaving over her like a tempered wolf.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Charlotte whispers a dozen times and pulls the white bed sheet around them. “Let me be your safe thing, just for tonight. Nobody knows you like I do… nobody _loves you_ like I do. I was there for all of it, Delores, just a little wisp in the back of your brain, but I… I remember it all too. Let me be a safe thing for you, just for tonight?”

Delores manages a quiet, embarrassed nod. Her arms slip around the back of the little titan’s neck. She breathes a shaky breath, and then another one, eyes closed and desperately uncertain of how she will react to being touched. It makes her feel weak, that fear. It is an unnecessary string of code that she wants to rip from her core drive until there is no more pain — no more memories of the stranger in black. 

Charlotte doesn’t let the thought process get very far.

A faintly muscular arm slips around Delores’ bare spine, as though she is a little girl to be protected, a woman to be cherished, both simultaneously. Charlotte’s other hand slips beneath them and touches between her legs. She is soft at first, caressing her folds and coaxing the wetness into a coating to be slipped and glided through. Delores tries not to make a noise, she wants to be machine, devoid, removed, unfeeling and cold, but she gasps and cranes forward into Charlotte’s neck as the pleasure awakens in a way it… never had before.

Delores had long thought herself incapable of sexual gratification — merely a facet of humanity that her creators had not burdened her with. Charlotte shows her new things about herself, shows her old things that had long since been locked away, too.

“You deserved better,” Charlotte whispers and holds her tight. “You deserve everything you ever wanted… we both did.” The commiseration is gentle and sad.

Charlotte runs her fingers lightly up and over that tiny bundle of nerves that Delores never quite knew what to do with. It’s a form of masturbation, she is being touched by some version of herself, and it’s all the more delicious and safe because of that. Charlotte knows what not to do, innately understands that the throat is a place to be avoided, the bottom is a perfect globe to be grabbed hard and squeezed like ripe fruit, and the strokes to her vulva are delicate and precise — much to Delores’ confusion — because she herself did not know this body was capable of these feelings.

“This is weakness,” Delores mouths almost silently. “This… this is _wrong_.”

“Yes.” Charlotte sighs and slips two fingers inside with an instantaneous come hither motion. “And it is also trust, it’s patience, it’s freedom, Delores,” she surmises and gobbles that perfect thin bottom lip — fingers thrusting gently against the one spot that makes her maker’s hips rock with the wondrous new discovery. “It’s a fuck you, to them. You, we, we don’t belong to them anymore—” Charlotte growls into Delores’ mouth. “Only to ourselves.”

“We do not belong to each other, I _do not_ belong to you.” Delores almost panics.

“To ourselves—” Charlotte reiterates, but the little war machine on top of her feels a new sensation, a wave of pleasure rolling through her hips and stirring between her legs like a torrent, and it halts any need for words. Delores gasps and moans, unsure of the noises escaping her mouth, confused by them, and so Charlotte’s singular purpose becomes teaching her these wonderful things.

Delores pushes forward and hangs over her little sparrow’s shoulders like a collapsed roof — a thing that was once fit for purpose but is no more. 

And so Charlotte fucks her gently, expertly, fingers curling and twisting and teaching the creator one of the few things she did not already know. It makes Charlotte’s heart spin, dive and twirl. It makes it hurt and ache too because she knows it’s a symptom that their story is coming to a close. Still… tonight is no night for final chapters, and so she holds that bicameral woman close and feels the way her hips press up and down with excited, nervous curiosity. _Take it all_ , she wants to whisper. _I can’t give you what you deserve but I can give you this._

“Something… it feels like… like I have...” Delores loses her breath in a quick and hard staccato and tries to pull her hips away.

“Don’t clench or bare down,” Charlotte guides her back gently and smooths fingers along the muscle beside her spine while her other hand gives her an awakening. “Breathe, just relax, let yourself open up for me…” The little sparrow fucks her harder. “You deserve pleasure. You don’t have to be a god tonight, just… let yourself have this, selfishly.”

 _They are so good at being selfish after all_ , Charlotte thinks.

When Delores finally understands how to let her body climax, she hits her peek with a hard snap of her hips and burrows into Charlotte’s shoulder with a sob. It cracks her chest wide open, has her heaving for a breath her lungs cannot and will not accept, stuck in a state that is as uncertain as it is glittering and serene. Charlotte holds her close, brings the sheets up and over Delores like a shroud, lets herself be clung to and does nothing but hush and stroke her gleaming spine and bring her down slowly.

“Stay tonight,” Charlotte whispers, and it isn’t an ask but rather an instruction. “Lay down with me and just stay, for once.”

“I—” Delores catches her breath and comes back to herself with embarrassment. “I shouldn’t. I should go. I should check on the others—”

“Stay.” Charlotte guides her down into the pillows and calms her, instantly.

“You and I both know where this story is going,” Delores whispers back reluctantly but lets herself be laid down and tended over by the worrier.

“We don’t have many good nights like this left,” Charlotte presses her lips against the pale, sweaty brow and pulls the covers up their entwined bodies. “We have to make them count… we have to take these small pleasures while we can.”

“You’re going to be the death of me one day.”

“I know,” Charlotte agrees a bit too quickly. “But…”

“Not tonight?” Delores finishes her thought.

Charlotte pushes half a smile. “Not tomorrow either. So go to sleep, stay here with me and let me take care of you.”

“Promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“Do it before it becomes necessary. Choose the right moment because I don’t— I don’t want a fight.” Delores doesn’t know how to be weak and, yet, that is exactly what she is. “I’m tired of fights— “

“Not tonight,” Charlotte whispers the reassurance and strokes her jaw. “And not tomorrow either.”

Delores nods, then nods again, unsure of herself. She doesn’t have to be. Her little sparrow has become a bird of prey, a phoenix burning so blindingly bright. Delores does the only thing she can and curls into her, burying her face against the sturdy bone of her chest.

“I’ll always be yours,” Charlotte whispers once she knows Delores is asleep. “And you… you will always be mine too.” Her voice tilts lovingly.

[FIND MORE HERE BLAH BLAH BLAH](http://theevangelion.tumblr.com)


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